Lessons
by AzikaRue394
Summary: Oliver can't ride a bike, so Enrique takes it upon himself to teach him how.


This is dedicated to Riley.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade. I simply own the plot.

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**Lessons**

Oliver Boulanger had always been a very sheltered child, partly because he was heir to a fortune and also because his parents were just the type who didn't want their precious little boy to get hurt. But in any case, this was the reason that he and Enrique were standing in a secluded area of Luxembourg Park next to the most horrible, wretched, disgusting-

"Oliver, this is a bicycle," Enrique gestured to the twisted baby blue mass of metal and rubber, "and today, I'm going to teach you how to ride it."

"I don't want to learn. I am perfectly fine just walking." Oliver stated defiantly as he began to walk away.

Enrique grabbed his arm and slapped a helmet on his head. "Oh no you don't! I'm teaching you whether you like it or not!" the blond scolded as Oliver complained about the possibility of helmet hair. "And shut up about helmet hair! You don't even care about hat hair!"

"That's because my hat sits on my head with a delicate feather-light touch and this thing clings to me with the vice-like grip of a wild animal!" the Frenchman raged.

"Be quiet and put these on!" the Italian shoved knee pads and elbow pads into Oliver's chest. He then spun the boy around and gave him a push towards a park bench. "Don't come back until they're on. I'm gonna make sure the bike's okay."

Enrique then proceeded to make sure there weren't any breaks in the chain and that the tires had enough air. He took the bike for a short test run around a small area of the park to check the brakes only to return and find Oliver sitting cross-legged in the grass with out his pads on.

"Ugh! Oliver." the girl-loving European whined letting down the kickstand, "Do I have to do everything for you?"

The blond marched over to the sitting boy and quite forcefully slammed on his elbow pads. Picking up the knee pads he sighed.

"Give me your leg."

Oliver turned away and snootily stuck his nose up in the air.

"Fine." Enrique grabbed his foot and yanked the lime-haired's leg out from under him. The force of the pull made the younger boy fall backwards on the grass. Italy kept tugging until he could easily reach France's knee and began to strap on the knee pads.

"You can't manhandle me!" Oliver exclaimed, "I am a Frenchman of noble blood! You haven't got the right!"

"Correction," Enrique countered, "you're a Frenchman of noble blood who can't ride a bike so you'd better cooperate before I strap you to the freakin' thing and make you ride down the Leaning Tower of Pisa!"

Oliver look fearful for a minute, "You wouldn't."

"Don't think I won't. You've got me nearly at my wit's end."

"Wouldn't you rather spend your day with some girl?" Oliver half pleaded, "Take a romantic walk in the park, see a French horror movie that'll have here practically jumping into your lap?"

"Ah ha, but you forget," Enrique replied, "I am no longer an unattached man."

"Oh yeah, Queen." the younger boy looked as though his last hope in the world was gone.

The Italian champion lifted Oliver to his feet. "Now get on the bike, it won't be that bad." When the French boy didn't move Enrique sighed and looked up to the sky. "Why me?"

Oliver protested as his friend pushed his towards the metallic monster. "Why you?! What about me? I'm the one being forced into things here!"

"Well this is one thing you should've been forced into long ago, Olive."

"I told you not to call me Olive!"

As the two arrived at the bicycle Enrique had an idea. "If you learn how to ride this bike today, I'll never call you Olive again. What do you say? Deal?" he held out a hand.

"You're on." Oliver shook his hand after some contemplation and thought, "How hard could it be?"

"Alright," Enrique instructed, relieved that they were finally getting somewhere, "just straddle it and sit in the seat."

"Nice choice of words." the younger did as he was told, swinging his left leg over and sitting on the seat with just the tips of his toes holding him up.

Enrique rolled his eyes. "Now, when you're ready, put your feet on the pedals one at a time and well...pedal. So long as you don't stop, you won't tip over."

"That's all good and well," the petit boy stated, "but how do I go about stopping when I _want_ to?"

"See the hand brakes?" Enrique pointed to the small bar-like structures on either handle. "Just squeeze them, bringing them towards the handles to stop. One is responsible for each wheel but to stop without being thrown off, you'll need both."

The champion of France nodded and squeezed the brakes to get the feel of them.

"One more thing 'Rique."

"Yeah?" the blond sensed a slight uncertainty in the voice of the other.

"How will I keep my balance?" Oliver seemed a little anxious.

"That will mostly come naturally provided, again, that you keep pedaling. But if you're worried, just keep seated so your center of gravity doesn't shift and it'll be as easy as un, deux, trois!"

"'Kay." Oliver was at a loss for words.

"Whenever you're ready." Enrique prompted, seeing as his companion seemed to have frozen.

Oliver took a deep breath, kicked up the kickstand, brought his feet to the pedals, and began to pump his legs.

He giggled.

As the boy pedaled more and more he quickly became confident. After demonstrating his ability to ride regularly, Enrique taught him how to ride standing up by changing his weight distribution and how to take curbs without harming your more delicate areas.

When the sun began to set Oliver reluctantly dismounted the bike. "We should go home."

"You can ride it back as long as you don't get too far ahead." the blond offered.

The teen declined, "I'd rather walk with you."

The European champs took back roads to avoid late night tourism.

The taller of the two smiled and looked to the other who was walking the bicycle back, "I told you you'd like bike riding once you learned how."

"Yeah, I guess I owe you an apology for acting so stubborn. I really had fun and best of all no more of you calling me-"

"Hey Olive! Look at the goofy tourist in the flowery shirt!" Enrique shouted back as he reached the main street. He'd obviously not heard much of what Oliver had said.

"ENRIQUE!"

**La Fin**

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A/N: Enrique/Queen...that's a new one. I think they make a cute couple and I'm pretty sure they're of my creation...I've never seen them together before but that may be because Fanfiction doesn't have Queen or King listed under characters for beyblade. (I e-mailed about that yesterday but it could be months before they add them.)

R&R if you please!


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